A Good Story

How does one go about measuring a year?

You know, there is lots of ways to do it. You could break it down into days spent here, or days spent there. One could even focus on a singular theme and how it worked seamlessly through everything else. Lists are good too, a simple way to capture what the days and months have brought expectedly and unexpectedly. I've perused journals and mementos that I have kept in my young 22 years and I've made all sorts of attempts to explain what an entire year has been like—all 365 days.

In the end, I always go back to what I like best, a good story.

                    

A year ago, around this time, to the day even, I made a big mistake. Celebrating 21 was wild, exciting, and fun. Looking back though, it was a little too crazy, complete with a lot less control. I quite simply had too much to drink. Far too much. But mistakes, in my opinion, are rarely occurrences from a straight path, rooted in only one influence. Yes, it was more than just having too much to drink. I was feeling the need to be loved. We all feel it and it manifests differently for everyone. After that night in Denver, I made a move and went too far with someone I barely knew. I understand that bad choices happen, but I didn't think I would ever be like that. Disillusioned, I tried to move past I simultaneously preparing for an exciting journey I had been fully anticipating for years. Ghana! Study Abroad! It had arrived.

I distinctly remember the feeling as I walked into the airport in Denver alone. I provided my check-in information a little shakily, quite overwhelmed that I was leaving the country for awhile. I journeyed up the long halls and lines, fiddling, saying my goodbyes on my phone, and just sitting in a swamp full of anxiety. Here goes nothing, I recall thinking.

This feeling continued upon arrival in London, and I suppose that feeling could be best described as a feeble attempt for your mind, soul, and body to relay and absorb the fact that big change is coming. It's your best effort to prepare when really you can't be even close to fully prepared to live 4 months in Ghana. Overjoyed, I finally saw Rachel and Taylor in the airport at Heathrow. Yes! This was really happening, and we were together.

January moved slowly into February, strangely enough. It wasn't a bad thing, it was just starting out lives in Ghana encompassed so much—from bringing toilet paper to the bathroom each time we needed to go to adjusting to an impenetrable layer of dirt at all times, things were just wildly different.

One time, it must have been late in January, our group of Americans traveled to the Cape Coast Castle in Cape Coast, appropriately located on the coast of the country. The drive was intriguing, and it was impossible to peel my eyes away from the window. When we went through the castle, and we stood in enclosed, dark, and muggy dungeon where slaves once lived awaiting their fate, I felt horrified. Trapped. I felt sick.

Ironically, it was the this trip in late January, the same trip where I touched a small crocodile and struggled to see out of my eyes as we traversed across the top of the canopies in Kakum National Park, where I knew I was exactly where I belonged. Relief and joy had overcome, and boy, I was so so glad. I was falling in love with Ghana.

As I truly began to feel comfortable, I also witnessed and experienced the incredible joy of having friends. It's simple, but when you are in a new place, with a new language to learn, a bowl of sketchiness to eat, and you are just a hot mess, it's nice to have good people by your side. My close friends in Ghana (3 from Hendrix)—Rachel, Paula, Taylor, and Amanda—well, we would just talk and chat for hours. That's it. You can learn a lot about life and people when you just sit down over a cold bottle of coke and share stories.

This crazy night, after a long trip from Kumasi, a bunch of people in our group decided to have a "Festival of Champions" in which we would dress up as weird characters and wrestle each other. It was an American holiday we told our Ghanaian onlookers, and even though we had to move our mattresses out in front of the hostel, it was a definite success. If they didn't already know, suspicions were absolutely confirmed—Americans are rather strange.

As the months of travel, school (when I felt like attending), volunteering, and life in Ghana seemed to steadily move along, I found myself facing pain in a way I had never faced before. As a volunteer in Kissemah, I was getting to know our students at Mauvio's Outreach Program pretty well. We began to be presented with issues of abuse, poverty, and rape that rocked me to the core. Soon, once I got off the tro in Kissemah to teach, I was using my 5 minute walk to glass to re-group, to brace myself, and to ask for strength. I would need every bit I could get. The love I felt (and still feel) for those kids was intensely real. I've always thrived being around young children, but this was new. These children—Rukia, Gloria, Gosway, Akos, Kwame, Margaret, Maama, to name a few—opened my eyes to a different kind of love. A maternal love, a love where I sought to protect and nurture. It's amazing what you can feel thousands of miles from home.

Home was becoming here, and yet it was time to pack and leave again. Why does time move so damn fast?

Goodbyes are immensely difficult. I learnt this plenty this year.

I tried to breathe all of it in, the kids' laughter, the distinct taste of red-red, the noise of the market, the travels of my dad and I as we so much of Ghana, all of it. I closed my eyes, and soon awoke to being back in Heathrow—alone again. I had bid adieu to my friends as we arrived in London and headed our own ways. I sat idly in the first class lounge after one last goodbye to Rachel and literally thought I would go crazy. Hot showers, gourmet food, unlimited wine—a dream in a way, a nightmare in the other. I took my stuff abruptly at one point, walking swiftly to the fancily decorated bathrooms and cried. I cried very hard while I was in that bathroom in the middle of the airport. This was just stage one of a long, weird, and challenging transition back to America.

The summer was invigorating some of the time though—I mean, I was home! I watched my brother graduate, I rode on ATVs, and I relished my summer workouts most of the time. With a big sigh of relief I was back to my old life. Wait.

Only this time, I was different, I was changed. Like a broken puzzle piece, I really wasn't fitting anymore. I would realize eventually, that not only did life keep moving while I was gone, but so did life at Hendrix too. Jumping right back into things was much more complicated than I anticipated. Still, I yearned for Hendrix the longer I was home. Come July, I had become fully immersed in my summer job as a family area intern at the Gathering Place. At one point, one hot summer Denver day, I just felt a part of the family there. I was friends with other staff members, and I was able to forge meaningful relationships with some of the kids I worked with. One family, well, they brought me an entire pan full of enchiladas as a thank you gift. Could it get any better? The team around me, 4 women of all different ages, was supportive on and off the job. When my brother was put in jail for a night, they were there when I got the call. They held me when I could not stand, and without them, I don't know how I could have sorted some of that confusion out.

As the heat continued on, I was doing what I loved every day. I played with kids who needed some extra love. I loved my job. How many people can say that?

August came. Finally.

I had a wonderfully delightful last few weeks with my parents and soon it was time to go. Mom and I packed the Prius and headed due South. I called Ali as we neared Conway city limits and I was euphoric. I don't know what it is exactly, but being at Hendrix is truly a place where I am me without any reservations, and that is very special. Also, I was just ready to see my friends after a long long time away from each other. We all had stories to share, fun to have, and new memories to make.

Unpacking my car and moving in was perfect. I couldn't have been happier. Screams, tears, and laughter were basically the norm the next few days as reunions happened everywhere. Even on the hockey field, it was just so nice to be back and with everyone again. I was grateful for this community, and happy that I had another year of it. One day, over Labor Day, we went to the Lake, had a picnic, took pictures as we pranced around like we owned the place, and layed in the sun. I like doing cute things like that.

However, the adjustment was not purely full of joy and bliss—I encountered a new batch of struggles that I wasn't sure how to handle at the time. A sadness struck that was hard to explain, only that I just felt so utterly sad, did not know why, and couldn't really confront what it meant. For someone who journals and reflects regularly, I just was miles away from being self-aware. I couldn't what I was feeling. That of course, was just it though. I had to face it. Why was I sad? Why did I feel alone? Why did I want to cry all the time?

When things picked up, I genuinely began to enjoy hockey season again. Practice was enjoyable and after starting off a little rough, the season as a whole exploded with success. With I think it was 4 or 5 straight wins, we beat the 9^th ranked team in Division II and eventually advanced further in the conference tournament than ever before. It was a very good time to be a Hendrix Warrior, and I will always remember what it looked like after I scored in the DePauw game. My hands held high I glanced at the stands and saw so many people that I loved cheering loudly on their feet. Nothing beats that. The season was magical and the feeling of accomplishment stills tastes familiar in my mouth. Ending my career with 6 other seniors was emotionally draining. I don't think even now it has fully hit me, but things like this take time. Closure, indeed.

So, season ended and I had nights of dread with studying endlessly, nights of Taco Bell runs, and nights of things like a Jersey Shore party. I had Sunday mornings too, and I won't deny that I adore Sundays at Hendrix. They come easy and I like that. The semester ended in a flash after a refreshing trip to Tulsa with Rachel's family for Thanksgiving, and I remember thinking that, "wow! Much has happened." Indeed, things are moving along in my life and my friends' lives too. Hearts were broken, post-grad plans were pursued, and Michelle was even engaged by the end of year (!!!), and planning a Southern summer wedding. I, along with my friends, was realizing that we were no longer little girls. Still, we have a good time and act young, because let's be real. Being young is just too much fun. Undeniably though, we have come a long way since being little baby freshman only a few years ago.

                    

And so, I finished 2010 much in the same way that it began—with reflection.

This time, feeling grateful, pleased, changed, and anxious for what is to come in the future. Disillusioned, I no longer am. At least not now.

To close the year, I watched football endlessly with my family, I forged a new approach to my relationship with my brother, and I even soaked up the Maui sun for a week, riding bikes down mountains, and running along the beach.

Yes, much has happened, but also, much is to come.

And, no matter what I go through in the next year, I will keep writing, because truly, it is the best way to tell a good story.

 

 

free falling

I went snorkeling for the last time this morning. Audrey and Jeffrey were busy catching waves; Dad and Gretchen were soaking up precious time on the beach, so Lance and I put on our gear and ventured out in the ocean.

The powerful waves naturally take swimmers near Black Rock—where all the beautiful coral and swarms of marine life are located—so I just let the water do its thing. Next thing I know, I was alone, brushing up against the high tide. For once, my mask wasn't filling with water and I was free to explore. If it is high tide it usually isn't the best time to snorkel, but I just had a feeling that I might see some cool fishies.

I managed to maneuver myself past the murky water, full of the unknown, and made my way closer to shore. In the process of doing so, I ran right into hundreds of fishes. Hundreds! Swimming all around me, I laughed, forgetting that sea water would fill my mouth and nose. I come up quickly for fresh air, fixed my mask, and went back under. I was captivated. Orange, brown, green, yellow. What were all these fish doing? Where were they going?

Later, as I was reflecting upon my adventures in the water, I thought of Tom Petty's "Free Falling." He sings the he is going to leave this world for awhile, and I think I finally get what that means. It's finding relaxation, peace, and a sense of release from everything that brings us down. That's what snorkeling felt like this morning. Freeing.

At the beginning of this trip, I didn't know if I would find this sense of release. I really just wasn't sure. Tension was abounding every which way. News of Lance due to be a father was weighing us all down. And, just on one of the first nights we had in Maui, Lance and I talked intimately about his depression and it scared me. I saw glimpses of a brother I did not know. Even Gretchen and Dad were expressing issues in their marriage that I didn't know existed.

One night, I went on the beach alone and just cried. I said aloud things like, "Why is this happening?" or "I just can't do this." I think I was talking to God, but I really don't know. I couldn't understand how a place like Maui—a place of astounding beauty—could be bringing so many issues to front—wasn't this supposed to be vacation? I was so sick of dealing with everything. I had hoped vacation would be a BREAK from the emotional stress of the past few months, and yet, here I was thinking I would need a vacation from this vacation.

Mom called early on in the trip and I had to pretend everything was fine. I'm a terrible liar, and somehow she believed me.

However, as quickly as the emotional turmoil came, it seemed to leave just as quickly.

The rest of the trip—the past 4 or 5 days—have been just about perfect.

I realized things were going to be okay as I rode a bike down a mountain (a volcano, really) a couple days after we arrived. I was riding behind our leader and careful to follow his movements; we glided through the road at speeds topping 20 or 25 mph. At one point, I looked around and could not believe where I was. I was about 8,000 ft above sea level and yet I could see the turquoise and navy blue waters perfectly. I could see the neighboring islands, I could see green lush everywhere I looked, and the sun was peaking at just the right point. I was happy and confident things would (and will) work themselves out.

Upon return from our bike ride, Audrey and I played in the ocean for hours. We body boarded, letting the sand penetrate every inch of our bodies, and just had fun. Yes, things would be just fine.

Our last full night in Maui, our family, including the Deckers (Gretchen's sisters family)—sunkissed and content—had dinner as we watched traditional Hawaiian dancing. We took some pictures, laughed, and enjoyed an overly expensive subpar meal.

Dad and Gretchen have begun to work through their issues.

Lance seems happier than he has been in some time. Despite my own questions, I will continue to believe that he is turning his life around. We recently found out that he will in fact, no be a father. It's a complicated situation, but I won't deny that we have discovered new heights of relief.

Audrey is maturing and expressing her feelings more openly to me than before and it's such a nice change. I like having a little sister and though we have never been extremely close, I see things changing for the better in our relationship.

So, after a week of beaching it in Hawaii, soaking up the sun in December, and wearing a bathing suit at all times, where do I stand?

Well, I'm tanner. Should add a little spice to Christmas photos!

But really, I think I'm more fully aware now more than ever that I can only control myself. I cannot fix my family problems. I never have been able to, and I never will. It's been a hard lesson, something I have struggled with for a long time, but it's a much needed one. I am letting it be, or at least I will try to. It's far too draining to make everything better myself, I don't need to. I don't have to.

My dad gave me my birthday present early. After dinner one night, he took me to the Pearl Factory. He let me pick an oyster to open and find a pearl. As the woman cracked it open, the oyster revealed a beautiful pink tinted pearl. I picked a Maile leaf design for the ring. As I put my pearl ring on my finger, the woman told us the ring design is symbolic and based on a leaf that only grows in Hawaii. The leaf represents love, honor, and respect, and is given to someone who has achieved something special. I was humbled, appreciative, and so happy that this was my gift from my dad. I figure as long as I long as I live my life with those three virtues in mind, then great and beautiful things will continue to happen.

I am sad to bid farewell to the ocean and the stunning island of Maui, but I'm fulfilled from the experience and ready for the next adventure.

I'm ready to return to the world for awhile.

“I Like Fried Rice.”

It's funny how no matter where I've been in my life, it seems like I'm always missing somebody.

It's like life is a perpetual state of missing.

I don't think this is a bad thing. No, not at all. Who wouldn't want all of the people they love in the world with them, right when they need them, at the perfect moment?

What's important though is to understand what these relationships and people mean.

It's hard to face. Very very hard. Especially right now.

In Perks of Being a Wallflower, there is this quote,

"Maybe it's sad that these are now memories. And maybe it's not sad. And maybe it's just the fact that we loved, and this was the time we could spend."

I've been meditating about this, thinking about it, trying to capture the essence of what this actually means.

I miss Rukia.

It's been so hard. For whatever reason, the past couple of days, I haven't been able to get her off her mind. I close my eyes and I am back in Kissemahn.

We are holding hands. We are dancing. She is whispering in my ear, "Auntie Heather, I will go to Legon." We are practicing numbers. We are drawing our families. We are singing "Sunshine in Africa." We are taking a tro-tro to Legon. We are drinking Coke and Cocktail de Fruits, all at once, because that's the only way Rukia likes to do it. We are in the taxi with Rachel and Mother T and Kwame, and Ruky and Kwame are yelling outside the window to street vendors. We are walking to Rukia's house. I am sitting with her family, they are smiling at me, thanking me, loving me.

And there is one moment that I keep playing in my head over and over again.

Esther, Rukia's mother, told me one day after returning from Legon that Rukia could be my my sister. I told Esther that Rukia would always be my sister. I told her that I loved Rukia. Esther just looked at me, pursing her lips, and then broke into a big smile. She said, in the middle of a sweet, sincere chuckle, "Yes. You are sisters. Always."

I open my eyes. I'm in my queen sized bed. I'm in an air-conditioned house. Here I am, thousands of miles away, with all of the comforts in the world, right. in. my. room. I have more clothes than I know what to do with, a room larger than Rukia's home, and an excess of food downstairs in the fridge.

I miss this girl. I miss her. It breaks my heart not knowing when we will meet again. Do I move forward, recognizing that seeing her again is highly unlikely? Or, can I hope, and believe that our lives will cross paths again?

Or maybe, that's not even the right question. Maybe, instead, I must ask, how did Rukia change my life? What did she give to me? What was I able to give her? How do I carry her within me, knowing that what we shared was a bond that overcame language, age, and cultural differences, and that maybe that's where the story ends? Maybe that's enough.

This is different from adjusting back to life in America. This is missing a 5 year old from Ghana that changed my life. this. is my heart breaking.

I told my mom that Rukia is crazy. She's sharp as a whip though; she's got this zest for life, unlike anything I've seen for someone her age, she's just got it. She's so special, anyone will tell you, and though she certainly is wild at times, she's a good soul. And, I think what hurts more than anything—more than me missing her—is that I don't know for certain that she will have a chance to really succeed in her life. She is now enrolled in a school in Kissemahn (!!!!) but as it so goes in Ghana, this is only for now. If the money runs out, if the family needs her to do chores, she will be out of school in a second.

She lives in the small town of Kissemahn, Ghana. She lives in a home the size of my room with about 5 other people. Her mom has very little money. To the government, she is probably nothing but a number.

But, to anyone who meets her, there is no doubt, she is something special. She has the potential to do great things.

So, I will keep praying. Praying for her, for her family, and that she can get an education. I will also remember that as I got to know her, we loved. We had great times together. What it means for me now, I'm not quite sure, but that was the time we could spend, and my God, I am forever grateful.

You Say I’m Lucky to Love Something that Loves Me

I watched an old best friend get married this weekend. MARRIED. Her horse carriage that brought her to the aisle was stunning, and watching the groom's face—not just the bride's—brought tears to my eyes. I don't know Dusty, the groom. We've met a couple of times in passing. But, as I watched Kristen and Dusty exchange vows on a secluded ranch upon a hill, surrounded by trees, green, her loved ones, and the fresh Colorado air, I knew she was just following her heart.

I think it's a good reminder about what in the world we are all doing here.

God—the way I see, feel, and know Him—is a God that moves, lives, and goes.

He moves, lives, and goes with us.

And, I know it's important to take life slow. To hold it, to touch it. But, when I feel God, I just want to move. Faster. And, I just want to go.

I know people say slowing down is good. It really is, and I learnt and lived that in Ghana.

Still, there's something about vigorously savoring each day, unafraid of change, fearlessly finding new people, things, and places. It's how I've tried to live my whole life. Even as a young girl, I was never idle. I wanted to play at the park any chance I could, I wanted to explore, I wanted to find. I didn't really know what I was looking for, but I never was interested in daintily brushing my dolls' hair. It just wasn't me.

Even with struggles, challenges, and obstacles, there's no reason to stop.

Maybe I'm not going down the aisle anytime soon.

But, I'm glad Kristen did. Because she's happy, and she followed her heart. What an honor, for myself and our friends, and her family, to watch someone commit themselves wholeheartedly to somebody else. Especially, for this person to be someone we all care about.

I hope one day I will.

And, I hope it will be beautiful whenever marriage for me comes along.

But, no reason to wait around.

There are experiences—each day—to be had, people to love, and life to be shared.

When Kristen and Dusty came back down the aisle, as Mr. and Mrs. Warner, everyone was beaming. It was good moment.

It was love.

Whether it's at a wedding, at a lone gas station, at the small corners on a college campus, on the streets leading into downtown, in vast and faraway places, or right in your own home, it's everywhere.

Go, and find it.

American Honey

Amurrrrrrica.

I've been back for a month.

I've been feeling, experiencing, seeing, and questioning a lot.

These are figments and pieces of my thoughts, emotions, and feelings as I have adjusted to America again.
They all come from my cute, gold, flowery journal.

Peace and love.

-----------------------------------------------------

It just took over 72 hours for it all to really start sinking in. I can’t really pinpoint what triggered it, but I was at the gym doing crunches, and then BAM! Someday by Rob Thomas came on my IPOD and I glanced around and saw white, and I thought of Rukia. Closing my eyes, it was like I was in Ghana again, back in another world. The tears came fast; I headed to the bathroom to be alone. I was supposed to stay for Pilates, but I couldn’t do it. I wanted to explore; I didn’t want to be trapped. Maybe I was afraid of being alone with my thoughts. Whatever it was, I left. I got in my car and headed home. Soon, I was on my bike. I wasn’t headed anywhere in particular, but I found myself at the soccer complex near my house, just off of Arapahoe Road. The fields are green and lush, reminiscent of the soccer fields I played on just a few hundred feet away, just a few years ago. Now, where I once adorned shin guards and blue and white for Colorado Storm Soccer club, stands Target, Best Buy, Dick’s, and Sunflower Market. Hello, infrastructure. As I bike over a creaky wooden path and park my bike against the old brown bark of a tree, I just stare. Immaculate and well groomed fields are everywhere, as kids of all ages are learning the game of soccer. Coaches, players, parents, everywhere. Will everything always go back to Ghana? Because my mind reminded me of how almost one week ago, I too was playing football, in Ghana, mind you. I played in Kissemahn park, on rock filled dirt, with stones marking the goals. I played with Godwin, with Daniel, with Forgive. My friends. My children. Football rules. Period. Grass or not, they will play. One game, two different experiences, two worlds.

-----------------------------------------------------

Relatively speaking, I’ve suffered little in my 21 years of life. I’ve grown up comfortably, I successfully graduated high school, and I’ve found great opportunities at Hendrix College. I’ve always had a roof, a family, a support system. I’ve fallen in love with God. And, I have friends that are unquestionably my soul mates. They get me. I’ve had struggles in my life, no question. Life is hard. But SUFFERING. What does that mean to me? I have been a witness to suffering: The Gathering Place, Pascagoula, New Orleans, Vietnam, Birmingham, Conway, Kissemahn. Suffering is everywhere. I have seen pain and true brokenness. And, I have also seen some that have nothing and possess everything. I pray I have the heart to feel, eyes to see, and to find solidarity from the suffering in this world.

-----------------------------------------------------

Summer always has a certain smell, feel, and vibe to it. I think a lot of that is a true sense of FREEDOM. Less responsibility, more time in the sun, and lazy afternoons. Or was that what summer WAS? Summer was always about the pool, friends, family, and relaxation. I’m struggling to find any of the above. Other things are looming, and adjusting into the fanciful expectations of summer after months and months in Ghana is challenging. I’m not alone, I know that, but sometimes even with all the love and my family around me, it’s been hard not to feel that way.

-----------------------------------------------------

Walmart.

Why?

Out. Of. Control.

-----------------------------------------------------

Back in Colorado for the summer. Only this time, this transitioning period is new. Unmarked territory—full of tension. Tension, not in the wow, I feel uptight and uncomfortable sense, but rather in the I’m a crossroad, becoming sense. I’m coming off a whirlwind experience in Ghana. In a couple months I will head off to my senior year in college. I’m a woman. Don’t be fooled, I am not afraid to jump in and make sand castles with the kids, or even take part in an occasional puppet show. It’s just, I’ve grown up too. So, fitting here has been hard.

-----------------------------------------------------

Amidst the excitement and joy of our family as we took pictures outside the Ritchie Center in Denver, I glanced over and saw a woman in beautiful African garb. Complete with the headdress. I got so excited, I tugged at my grandma, wanting her to see the beauty of Ghanaian fashion. She smiled and seemed excited too. More and more, I am wishing I made my diva dress into a Ghanaian women’s outfit. I just don’t think I could ever be that fabulous. I mean REALLY. It was nice to see the vibrant colors, styles, and designs again. So beautiful.

-----------------------------------------------------

I’ve been sad, anxious, and confused. Unsure of where God is leading me next. Yet, fully aware of the passion inside of me. There is so much ahead. It’s insane, really. There’s also so much here.

-----------------------------------------------------

As I was asking God for peace in my heart, I realized that even if I don’t fit, it doesn’t mean I don’t belong. This is home. It always will be. So, as I deal with this tension I can find grace in knowing I am here for a reason. I am home. And it might just be as sweet as American honey. Like the wise and poetic Lady Antebellum says.

-----------------------------------------------------

I talked with a Liberian woman, Ida, who has been a favorite at the Gathering Place for years today. Her accent, her dress, she was a give away. I knew she had that West African woman spirit, seriously. The minute she mentioned plantains, I had to approach her. We had an instant connection, and for me, an instant admiration. A Liberian refugee, bringing her children her to America and making a life for her family here, I was truly humbled. I asked her how in the world she adjusted to this crazy American life. She scoffed, laughed, and simply said, “I didn’t really have a choice. You do what you have to do, and you just keep on loving God.” Two days later, she brought me and the rest of the family area staff fried plantains and a Liberian stew. West African women might just be some of the strongest, most intense, passionate, and kind people you will ever meet.

-----------------------------------------------------

God never ceases to amaze me. On the same day that I got to talk on the phone with the children of Kissemahn, I got to spend all day with 4 children at the Gathering Place who I developed close relationships with two years ago. I finally got to see them again—Betty, Jesus, Janet, and Lizzy. Needless to say, the blessings and beauty of this world come unexpectedly sometimes. That’s the best part, isn’t it? I forgot how much I loved being called Auntie Heather, and I forgot how great it was to hear prayers in Spanish. Life is beautiful.

-----------------------------------------------------

Maybe if all of America knew about Ghana time, life would be felt a little more. Are people that rush around, barely looking away from their closed tunnel vision, numb to what is going on around them? Why don’t people say hi to each other more? Why don’t we just STOP and just enjoy? Hospitality goes a long way. I know this. I know this, because the other day, as I got into my car, absorbing all of the thoughts racing through my mind, a man in a wheelchair waved. I felt loved. I felt the way it felt when people spewed out “Akwaaba!” and “How are youuuu?” in the markets of Accra, or even walking towards Blessed Bless to get an egg sandwhich. Yes, hospitality is a gift, and something I hope offer more to the people around me. My family, my friends, and complete strangers. It might just slowly help the world become a better place.

-----------------------------------------------------

I feel like I am trying to vicariously live my Ghanaian life through the Black Stars during the World Cup. When the camera crew shows the flag, and Ghanaian football enthusiasts I get teary eyed. Do I need counseling? No, not really, but it's funny that I feel much more strongly about rooting for a team that I lived in that nation for over 4 months, versus my OWN nation, in which I have lived for well over 20 years. Ghana makes you do funny things.

-----------------------------------------------------

It’s Father’s Day. I feel even more grateful and blessed with a wonderful father than ever before. My dad is a silly man, most people would tell you that, but they would also say that he seeks to understand me than a lot of other people. We are close, not because he knows the intricate details of my life, but because he has a deeper understanding of what makes me happy. My dad came to Ghana for me. It was the most wonderful act of love he could have done, and now, he understands, more than anyone, how weird, strange, and hard it is to live back in America. That makes things easier. Even in just that week and half in the land of the Black Stars, he caught a glimpse of Ghana, and what it’s like to live in a completely different part of the world. He gets it. Sometimes I just need a hug when things feel overwhelming here. And he knows that. So, I’m extra thankful today. I also have a wonderfully supportive stepdad in Randy, and a wonderful Grandpa too. How did I get so lucky? The men in my life are strong, compassionate, and loyal. They have the things that I hope to find one day in a man, and I think that’s a pretty cool thing.

-----------------------------------------------------

 

You did it.

As I helped him button his shirt, using the lint roller to make it look perfect, simultaneously attempting to put his blue tie in place, I took a step back and was proud of the man that stood before me.

This man, my brother, has had some of the most difficult experiences the past couple of years. He's grown up a lot. He's been through a lot. And, there were certainly times I wasn't sure he would make it. I didn't know if he could make it to this milestone; I wasn't sure if he could ever truly believe in himself. I never gave up; rather, I just didn't know when the day would finally come.

It came today.

Lance graduated high school.

It's a milestone for everyone, I know, but for Lance this is huge. He's going to college this fall, and he's enrolling at Colorado State University with an attitude that has been missing for the past year or so. It's my brother. He's back.

He is happy. I can sense it in the way he hugs me, in the way he carries himself, and in the way he talks about his future. God truly answers prayers, and this is a big one. Lance has a new beginning before him, and he really will do great things. God has something so beautiful and incredible planned for his life.

Lance is pretty much the funniest person I know, he likes cheese just as much as I do, and he always, always makes me laugh. He will do anything for the people around him, he always knows what to say, and he doesn't take life lightly. He lives it to its fullest.

Lance makes me proud to be a big sister. I feel more comfortable around him than mostly anyone, I tell him absolutely everything, and some of my favorite memories in my life are right alongside him.

One time, coming back from Utah, and driving around 1am, we stopped for coffee at some random gas station. I put some of this magical energy stuff in my coffee since I was driving and Lance rode shotgun to help me stay awake. To this day, I don't know what was in that magical stuff, but HOLY MOLY. I went psycho, like, even more crazy than I already am. So, as we traversed through the Rockies in Utah, I was laughing, singing, and saying the most absurd things, with Lance laughing right along. I smile just thinking about it. Or, when I think back on our childhood summers, I remember our long bike rides to buy slurpees and chili cheese dogs (extra cheese, of course) from the barnstore. I remember making football plays in the front yard, and Lance always letting me play quarterback because it was my dream. I remember catching fish up in the mountains and thinking we were so cool…only for mom and dad to tell us later that we fished out of a pond that they fill with fish so you will basically be guaranteed to catch anything. I remember forcing Lance to play barbies with me, putting a dress on you and taking pictures, and walking barefoot outside, thinking we were clearly the most BA people ever to live.

I also remember how I felt when you hugged me after my last field hockey game in high school. I remember how you listened to me talk to you about my dreams, worries, and hopes until 4 am one night, letting me sleep on your floor in your room. I remember talking about rugby this past winter, and our day out together when you decided you wanted to play. And, I will now always remember how you looked walking up to get your diploma. Strong, confident, fulfilled, and happy. You did it, Lance.

We've done so much together, and after this summer, this is his chance to go out and find himself. College. It's allowed me a chance to discover who I really am, and I thank God Lance is going to have a chance to also experience this.

He will be a Ram, wearing hunter green and gold, and he will wear it well.

Congrats, class of 2010.

 

i'm just a summer girl.

"You were given life; it is your duty (and also your entitlement as a human being) to find something beautiful within life, no matter how slight."

--Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat Pray Love

I was anxious about this summer. I was excited about this summer. I was worried about this summer. And I was ready for this summer. To the core, I may be a reckless, winter loving mountaineer, but deep down, I am a summer girl.

Already it is June. Already the temperatures are starting to peak. And already, I am wondering where exactly this summer is taking me.

Starting the summer in Vietnam was...well...beautiful, to say the least. To have such an intense, life changing, and amazing experience in just 10 days, and then return back home was whirlwind.

And when I returned home, I was happy. It was good to be back in the cool Colorado altitude, the company of my family, and the familiarity that coming home always provides. I was thrown for a loop when I lost my job after a week of being home, found myself in the midst of some rocky family business, and in an unsure place with my friends. And yet, I knew, no, I felt that everything that was beautiful was here. It was with me. And just because a few things spontaneously alter my plans for this summer, well, it just goes to show that sometimes plans suck. Plans don't always leave room for the unexpected, for the alternative path, and hell for the right path. Humans are wrong. A lot.

What I have learned in just a short month, has been to find beauty in everything. It's easy to write about, it's even easier to talk about, but being able to find beauty in not just the overt wonders of life, but also the small things. The things that others may not find at first. The things that look like nightmares at first. The things that are covered in what looks to the straightforward mind as worthlessness, when really they can mean the world.

Having some of my plans go kaput is beautiful.

Finding a passion for yoga is beautiful.

Rekindling old relationships with friends is beautiful.

Sunbathing in my backyard with my blind dog by my side is beautiful.
Crying is beautiful.
Laughing is beautiful.

Going to the pool only to be rained on is beautiful.

Having diverging viewpoints about God and spirituality is beautiful.

Having my best friend live 45 minutes away is beautiful.

Returning to the Gathering Place is beautiful.

Running in the State Park is beautiful. Being able to run 40 minutes without stopping is beautiful.

Singing in the car is beautiful.

People watching in City Park is beautiful.

Writing letters and receiving letters is beautiful.

Missing my best friends is beautiful.
Eating too much icecream is beautiful.

Driving on I-25 and being stuck in Denver traffic is beautiful.

Watching my brother make mistakes and then learn from them is beautiful.

Reading until the wee hours of the morning is beautiful.

The more I search my heart, the more I meditate on the summer that I have been having, I find myself having few complaints. I am blessed to have what I have in my life. I think the people, the circumstances, the spirit, and the beauty around me is a lot like watching a magnficent sunset over the west to the Rocky Mountains, seeing the perfect golden colors intertwine to remind us of what this glorious Earth holds for us. What God provides. And then to know, that the sun will rise the next morning, with equal beauty, and equal magnimity.

And it's also beautiful to know that the small things do matter. And that when I return to school, and back to my life at Hendrix, saying hi to acquaintances walking near Mills, sending sweet notes to my friends, watching the squirrels run around like hyperactive toddlers, and just enjoying the experience as a whole is what matters.

It's funny because this summer I have had time alone to think. I always value the time I have alone, but this summer I have grown as an independent woman, more than ever before. I've been thinking a lot about change, particularly in regards to the environments that I have been in--from high school, to college, to my home, to around the world--it has all impacted me, and I have responded to change in such different ways. When I graduated high school, and my friends and I took pictures outside the Ritchie Center on the DU campus, I recognized that change would likely happen, but that it couldn't and wouldn't change my relationships with my friends. As far as I was concerned, we were solid.

It's all changed.

The dynamics that I have with my friends at home are all sorts of crazy. Nothing is the same, and 2 years ago, I never would have predicted what has become of my relationships. It's been bittersweet.

And maybe, instead of fighting this change like I did 2 years ago, you can use change to carry you from one life experience to the next.

That's really what this summer is about for me. I am changing, I am digesting the changes that have already occured, and have yet to come. It's all beautiful. It has to be. Because it is our duty to find beauty in life, no matter how small. No matter how slight. No matter how insignificant. Life, and everything in it, is, at its very essence, beautiful. I'm really just a summer girl. Not because of the hot and sweltering sun, not because of the long lazy days with the girls, not even because of the freedom to take spontaneous adventures. No, I'm just a summer girl because it's in the summer where I can thrive in my independence, I can reflect on the change in my life, and I can accept the little things as beautiful. Yes, I'm just a summer girl.

Yes We Can

I read something the other day from my devotional. It was about faith, and how having faith transcends the idea that life is a sequence of blessings that God gives us. It made me think; so often I feel that everything I have is a blessing from God. AND IT IS. But sometimes I think I find myself caught up in the notion that my relationship with God is a one way street. You know, God is so magnificent and beautiful because He gave me all of this. Because He gave me the relationships I have with people, because He gave me my amazing moments at Hendrix, because He gave me all of it. I can't tell you how filled my journal is with moments where I can feel God. Because I really can feel him everywhere. My point is though, that these moments happen because we have faith in Him. I can't lose sight of this. I can't rely on my life being a string of blessings that God has provided. It is so much more than that. My life is built on the faith I have in Him. Without that, I would be nothing. Without Him, I would be nowhere. It is with this faith in God that we have these blessings. I honestly believe that one of these blessings our country and this world has received is Barack Obama.

Last week was one of the most amazing weeks...well..ever. I have been around for some pretty important things in life. My generation has seen the election of two George Bushes, we have stood by for the tragedy of September 11th, we have seen the devastation of tsunamis and earthquakes worldwide, I have rooted the Broncos on to back-to-back superbowls, we have cringed as New Orleans residents were left standing on their houses after Hurricane Katrina, we have prayed as our troops have been deployed to Iraq after a seemingly endless war, but much of what we have experienced and grown up to witness pales in comparision to the election of Barack Obama. Not to say these events are subjugated under the election of Obama, but for the first time in my life I was involved in that. I, like many of my friends, helped elect this great man to the Presidential office.

BARACK THE VOTE.

OBAMA RAMA.

WE WILL BARACK YOU.

The Election Watch Party was fantastic. There was something special about sitting around with my friends cheering on Barack. Michelle and I danced for a good 15 minutes to some random techno music, and the moment the TV announced Barack as the projected winner for president I remember just sitting there flabbergasted. How could they know so soon? How could he win so quickly? Yet, after taking 4.3 seconds to realize it didn't matter, this man was the President-Elect of the United States the party began! The room was electrified with energy. It was amazing. I can't help but think what I would be thinking had this election happened a year ago. My, how things change. A year ago I would probably be devastated at Barack's win. I would have continued to be strangled by ideology that didn't even equate with the passions of my heart, and I would have continued on my close-minded path. I can't really pinpoint the time when everything changed for me politically. I do know that going on the Journeys of Reconciliation had a lot to do with. That wonderful trip taught me a lot, and I think it was during that trip somewhere down in the heart of Birmingham that I began to question what I thought was true. My whole life Republicanism was the way to be. If you have money and any sense of sanity voting red was your only option. Sure, there are things and issues that I would be considered conservative on: I am pro-life, for one. But there are bigger issues out there, and I believe Obama has the solution. It took me a long time for me to see it, but now I am so happy that I made an informed decision. Being home for the holidays will be interesting. Politics over dinner with a bunch of staunch Republicans? Goody. At least I will have things to say in return, after all, I voted for the man who actually won the election. I err on the side of most Americans, so ha.

Seriously though this election was a pivitol moment for our country and for our lifetime. Martin Luther King Jr. I have no doubt would be thrilled, and to see the first African American elected president is basically a dream come true. Finally. Finally. It's one of those things my grandchildren will be talking about. Our nation is changing. It's changing for the better. I feel overwhelmed to witness these historic events. To witness the changing of our reputation around the world. Barack Obama stands for something greater than we can even fathom; he has shown us that we can do anything. That might sound cheesy, but after 8 years of George Bush (God love him) we have someone who will bring about change.

"This is our chance to answer that call. This is our moment. This is our time - to put our people back to work and open doors of opportunity for our kids; to restore prosperity and promote the cause of peace; to reclaim the American Dream and reaffirm that fundamental truth - that out of many, we are one; that while we breathe, we hope, and where we are met with cynicism, and doubt, and those who tell us that we can't, we will respond with that timeless creed that sums up the spirit of a people:
Yes We Can. Thank you, God bless you, and may God Bless the United States of America."